All Who Remain
by siobhane
Summary: Saying goodbye is hard. Prompto copes with death by checking items off his bucket list. For Noctis and for himself. After all, life is short and here's no time like the present, right? (Post-canon fluff and sadness)
1. The List

**_All Who Remain_**

* * *

~ONE~

* * *

If Prompto squinted, it looked like Noctis was only sleeping. Noctis slept like the dead anyway, the last to wake for the day and only after threats of bodily injury, vegetables for breakfast, or the permanent deletion of King's Knight from his phone.

Prompto's eyes were drawn away from Noctis to the sunlight spilling down into the ruined room, so beautiful in its juxtaposition of utter destruction and pure unfiltered light. It was a literal ray of hope obliterating the despair of the last ten years.

That's what this heavenly light was – Noctis giving them a future, a present worth living in, giving them back their hope, and Prompto wanted to strip naked and bathe every inch of his skin in the warmth of the sun's rays. He wanted to take pictures of the dust motes against a backdrop of twisted metal and stone, of the way the light hit the gilded walls, of how it knifed through the darkness and spilled across the floor. Gods, it was enough to take his breath away.

His elation kicked down a notch as his eyes fell from the heavens to the throne, where Noctis awaited them.

He could have been asleep, but the Gods didn't go back on their word. The blood price was paid, and their King was no more.

Of the three of them, Ignis was the only one weeping, but he was doing so quietly and without so much as a sniffle. Prompto cried himself dry when the sun came up, the gradually lightening sky a blur of color that said Noctis had done what he came to do. It was a victory, but a bittersweet one.

He took Ignis' arm lightly and followed Gladio up the steps to the throne, taking care to make sure Ignis didn't stumble. Gladio reached the top first, took a knee and bowed his head in deference to their fallen friend.

To see big, tough Gladio break down almost sent Prompto careening back into hysteria. Ignis was one thing. Gladio, another.

Fuck. Why did it have to go like this? He was the emotional one, not them.

Prompto sucked it up and drew upon the determination that had carried him from lonely, friendless, overweight boy who abused himself with food, to close friend of a future King, a soldier, hunter of daemons, and a survivor.

If he couldn't do this, he wasn't as strong as he thought. If he had to be the strong one now, so be it.

He left Ignis on the top step and approached the throne. Noctis could be sleeping, but his face was too peaceful for it to be true.

Prompto smoothed back Noctis' long bangs and his hand met skin too cold to belong to something alive.

A memory surfaced, from back when they were still in high school. Prompto got his hands on a bottle of whiskey and did what any other sixteen year old would do: he showed it off to his best friend.

They broke into a construction site a few blocks from their favorite arcade and climbed the skeleton of the new building, Prompto complaining about his fear of heights the whole way up, and sat on the roof to spend the evening getting trashed. Noctis wound up with alcohol poisoning trying to prove he could out-drink Prompto, which he did, of course he did, but neither were experienced drinkers and Noctis paid the price. Ignis almost killed Prompto for getting Noctis drunk, keeping him out past curfew, and then calling at three in the morning frantic because Noctis wouldn't wake up and his breathing was all wrong.

Noct's skin that night was almost as cold as it was now. Prompto should have been afraid of what that meant, but he didn't have room for fear anymore, or the time for it. His younger self would face this new future with apprehension and uncertainty, but Prompto lived in fear for too many years to to let it rule him now.

All that was left was a goodbye.

"Remember all those times you said you wanted to sleep forever and we gave you shit for it?" he asked Noctis. "Well, it's okay for you to do that now, buddy. You earned it."

He thought his tears had run dry, but his eyes leaked as he stepped back and offered up a silent prayer to whichever God was listening.

 _Look after him, Luna. He's all yours now. Take care of him till I see him next, okay?_

Behind him, Ignis made a sound lost somewhere between a moan and a whimper. Prompto knew just how much Noctis meant to him. Of the three, Ignis was closest to him, being the one to serve as advisor, parent, and friend, and he'd put everything he had into the task. As often as they joked about Ignis being the team mom, and as much as Ignis loathed the comparison, the assessment wasn't that far off.

Prompto went to his side and offered his arm.

"Wanna go say goodbye?"

Ignis' goodbye tore Prompto's heart out and he didn't even say a word. It was Ignis' silent tears and his soft touch as he inspected Noctis for wounds and a heartbeat, like a parent tending to a sick child.

Noctis belonged to Ignis as much as he belonged to Regis. Prompto hurt on Ignis' behalf and he knew the wounds of loss would never quite heal. Not only had he lost a friend, he'd lost a child.

Prompto couldn't imagine how that must have felt. Children of his own were not in his future, but he used to imagine if they were, they would be his whole world and he would give them every bit of love he was denied and then some. That kind of loss, even the imaginary kind, would be devastating.

Gods, this was _hard_. Every part of Prompto's life thus far had been tough, but this was the hardest thing he'd ever had to do. Harder than facing his own daemons in the Magitek labs. Harder than coming home every day to an empty house. Harder than breaking the habit of eating his feelings. Harder than any blow Ardyn dealt him down in Zagnatus Keep. Harder than telling the truth.

It would be easy to let grief and bitterness swallow him whole, but to not appreciate what Noctis did would be ungrateful. As much as it hurt, as hard as it was to let him go, Noctis wouldn't want any of them to cry over him.

He would want them to go outside and stand in the sunshine.

* * *

~X~

* * *

As eerie and abandoned as Insomnia seemed in the dark, there was something hair-raising about the way it looked in daylight. The place was a ghost town. Not a soul emerged from hiding after the dawn came, and not even a breeze stirred the litter in the streets.

Prompto wandered aimlessly for a while, Gladio half a block ahead on his phone trying to get in touch with Iris, Ignis a step behind Prompto. He remembered places he'd been with Noctis in this part of town and the things they'd done here. None of it was beyond what ordinary teenage boys got into and consisted mostly of hanging out, playing games, and eating, but it was worth revisiting.

All the places they used to go lay in ruin. Inside the arcade, the machines were covered in dust and debris, some lay on their sides with broken screens and consoles salvaged for parts. Nothing except fixtures was left inside the camera shop where Prompto used to stare longingly at equipment he couldn't afford. The cafe where they spent afternoons after school was a pile of rubble.

Parked outside the drugstore was a motorcycle, miraculously left undamaged. Prompto ran his hand over the dusty tank, sure the color underneath was something dark, only to find cherry red paint beneath the layers of filth. Just for the hell of it, he climbed on and tested the weight.

Not too heavy. The tires were in good shape, too, but in need of air.

"Hey Iggy, take my picture," he said.

"You're asking a blind man to take photos?" Ignis asked, but Prompto was delighted to see a hint of amusement in his face. "Why not ask me to drive as well?"

"You'd still be a better driver than me," Prompto said. "Come on. Just aim toward the sound of my voice then push the button."

"As you wish," Ignis said and took the camera from him.

Prompto planted both feet on the ground, crossed his arms over his chest and grinned until the shutter clicked once, then twice, and Ignis handed the camera back.

He checked the shot and smiled. "Good job, Iggy. You got my good side."

"I managed to capture a photo of your ass, then," Ignis deadpanned. "You must be so pleased, considering how often you show it."

Prompto cackled and climbed off the motorcycle.

"Gods, I love you Iggy," Prompto said and claimed his friend's arm. "Never stop being you, okay? Not ever."

Ignis frowned.

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah, why?"

"You're unusually... _composed_."

Prompto scratched his chin and cast a sideways glance at Ignis. Thank the stars Ignis couldn't see his face. Prompto was pretty good at hiding his real feelings, but Ignis used to be pretty good at figuring out when Prompto was pretending. And with everything that had happened in the last couple of days, Prompto didn't want to add any more stress on top of that.

"You know me," Prompto said lightly. "Just trying to stay positive."

"I am grateful for that. You almost made me forget for a moment."

"I'll be here all week," Prompto said. "Don't forget to tip your waitress."

Up ahead, Gladio leaned against the shelter of a bus stop, his hand to his forehead as he spoke into his phone. His dirty face was streaked with tears and Prompto got choked up again.

Nope. He wasn't going to cry. He had way too much on his plate to waste time on tears.

* * *

~X~

* * *

Days after Noctis was interred in the tomb inside the Citadel, beside his father and the modern-era Kings before him, Prompto sat on the floor of his room at the Levelle and packed an overnight bag. He wasn't sure if he was actually coming back to Lestallum, at least not long-term and attempted to stuff everything important into a space meant for a few articles of clothing and a toiletry case.

Damn. He needed a bigger bag. Iggy might lend him one, but then he'd have to answer questions he wasn't ready to deal with. Plenty of time for that later. For now, if anyone asked, he was off to take pictures of the ruined world in daylight with the intention of publishing for posterity. Hell, maybe he'd actually do it. Somebody had to document what it looked like out there.

That sounded good, right? Like something he would do.

Past Prompto would never go off on his own, but during the dark years now behind him, he learned to cope with solitude in a better and healthier way than he coped as a child. Being alone didn't have to mean he was lonely.

As he debated what to do about the bag situation, he flipped through an old photo album full of pictures of the early part of their journey and felt equal amounts of happiness and sorrow. The first few days of that trip, before Insomnia fell, were a lot of fun.

Except for when the Regalia broke down, through absolutely no fault of his own, no matter what Gladio said. And maybe having to kill Reapertails to pay for food and lodgings wasn't so much fun either. The sandstorms sucked pretty bad, too.

But there were good things about it, things that made the not-so-fun parts worthwhile. Without the city lights polluting the view, the desert sky at night was full of millions of bright stars, so many it boggled the mind. Getting to try out Ignis' new recipes. Interesting rock formations and the stark beauty of crumbled buildings and rusted, decaying equipment. Hanging out with friends. The thrill of finally belonging somewhere. Meeting the Goddess of the Gears for the first time and falling head over heels in love, or what he thought was love at the time.

Had they ever really looked so young and innocent, though? At the time, Gladio and Ignis looked so much older to him than they did in these photos. Prompto himself looked not a day over twelve in spite of his ropy arms.

With a heavy sigh, Prompto closed the album. As the pages snapped shut, a folded, yellowed scrap of notebook paper flew out and landed on the carpet in front of him.

He unfolded it and laughed. It was a list, written the first or second night on the road after both he and Noctis split a six pack at the camper at Hammerhead. The conversation that sparked said list was one of those that seemed philosophical and deep at the time but was clearly just two dorks who couldn't handle more than a beer apiece.

"If you knew you only had six months to live, what would you do?" Prompto had asked Noctis.

"You mean like a bucket list?"

"Yeah," Prompto said. "All the stuff you wanna do before you die."

"I don't know," Noctis said. "Beat King's Knight?"

Prompto, buzzed to the point of perma-grin, lamented Noctis' lack of imagination, but reading over their respective lists now, he wasn't exactly a font of inspiration himself when it came to end-of-life last wishes.

 ** _Prompto's Bucket List_**

 _Ride a chocobo._

 _Buy a motorcycle._

 _Learn to ride it._

 _Ask Cindy out on a date._

 _Write Cindy a poem._

 _Conquer fear of bugs._

 _Learn to cook something besides salad._

 _Conquer fear of heights._

 _Tell my parents how much they suck._

 _To their faces._

 _Shotgun an Ebony._

 _Skinny dip in the ocean._

 _Punch Gladio in the nose and live to tell the tale._

 _Get at least one photo published._

 _Eat the spiciest pepper in the whole world._

 _Out-Pun Iggy._

 _Conquer FEAR._

 _Marry Cindy._

Ugh. Embarrassing how many times he put Cindy on the list. That wasn't to say he didn't still have a huge crush on her, but man. How desperate was he?

He shook his head and moved on.

 _ **Noctis' Bucket List**_

 _Adopt all the cats._

 _Beat King's Knight._

 _Fish._

 _Reel in a monster._

 _More fishing._

 _Sleep._

 _Purge all vegetables from the world._

 _Sleep forever._

Prompto wiped a hand over his face at the last item on Noctis' list and let the paper rest against his knee.

"Shit," he said. "You've got me beat by a mile, buddy."

Prompto thought about how people always seemed put off the things they wanted to do for later. Life could be painfully short, and sometimes later never came.

"Time to step up, huh?"

No more putting things off. It was time to make a new list.


	2. Parting Ways

**~TWO~**

* * *

 _ **Bucket List 2.0**_

 _1\. Make every day count._

* * *

 **~X~**

* * *

Prompto packed the essentials, collected his camping supplies – a one person tent, a sleeping bag and a small survival kit, and put the rest of his belongings in a shopping bag. He wouldn't need his photo albums or his comic books on the road. Better to leave them with Ignis so they wouldn't get lost or damaged.

All that was left to do now was say his goodbyes and check out of his room.

He knocked on Ignis' door, apprehensive about the conversation to come, but anxious to get moving. Ignis answered, his posture more defeated than Prompto had ever seen it and his face puffy like he'd either just woken up, or he'd been crying. Prompto would bet on both.

Prompto hesitated. Was it selfish to take off now, while everyone was still raw from their loss? What if Iggy needed him?

But Noct would understand, right? He'd want Prompto to deal with grief in his own way, to chase his dreams and live his life on his own terms. After ten years of living in limbo, Noctis would want them to do all the things they put aside during the dark years. Otherwise, what was the point of his sacrifice?

"So you're leaving us, then," Ignis said before the door was even closed. "Can't say I'm surprised."

"I, uh, yeah," Prompto said. "How did you know?"

"After all this time, you still doubt my powers of observation?"

Ignis flashed a sad smile and searched the table top for his favorite coffee mug. He could find things well enough on his own, and would ask for help if he couldn't, but Prompto, out of habit, reached forward and slid the mug closer to Ignis' fingertips.

"What gave it away?" Prompto asked.

"I suppose it was the way you've avoided discussion of what happens next," Ignis said as his fingers found the handle of the mug. "And you never say what's really on your mind, do you?"

Ignis had him there. Prompto could whine for hours about bugs and heights and claustrophobia, but years of keeping secrets and hiding his anxiety made it tough to open up, even to those close to him.

"That's not really my area of expertise," Prompto said. "Need pictures? I'm your guy, but all this politics stuff? It's way over my head."

"Indeed," Ignis said. He reached for the coffee pot, in need of no assistance in locating it. Ignis was a homing pigeon as far as coffee was concerned. "You're not missing anything. It can be quite dull."

Ignis poured his coffee and sat beside the window, his face bathed in morning sunlight, scars highlighted in a way Prompto found beautiful. People always said scars were ugly, but Prompto thought they told a story and added character and sometimes made gorgeous things even more stunning. None so much as Ignis, for how he got them.

Prompto got lucky. His own scars were limited to a slightly crooked nose, mild nerve damage in his left hand, and occasional nightmares about falling off trains, getting lost in snowy landscapes, being restrained and abused, or waking up to discover he'd been turned into an MT.

Those last two were the worst. Even after a decade, he still had them. Not as often as he used to, but more often than he would admit to anyone.

Prompto lifted his camera and peered at Ignis through the viewfinder. A perfect shot, perfect face, perfect light.

"Taking your picture, Iggy," Prompto said. "Don't move."

"Don't you already have hundreds?"

"I don't have a recent one of you in the sunlight," Prompto said. "Hold still."

Ignis submitted to Prompto's demand, his cup of coffee clutched in both hands and his face turned toward the light. At the push of a button, Ignis' was immortalized on film, bathed in sunshine for the first time in ten years.

"Oh man, that's a good one," Prompto said as he admired his work. "You have a great face, Iggy. The camera loves you."

"Please," Ignis said. "I'm sure I look a fright."

"Not at all, dude."

Ignis sipped his coffee.

"How long do you plan to be away?"

"I don't know. Vyv's got work for me," Prompto said. He let the camera rest in his lap, his finger still on the button. "However long it takes, I guess. Lots of stuff to take pictures of, you know?"

As he waited for Ignis to decide whether he was lying or not, he rubbed the chronic numbness from the ring finger of his left hand. It gradually worsened over the years to sometimes include his pinky finger and part of his palm. Nothing he could do about it. Massaging it didn't actually help, but he did it anyway out of habit.

"Shame I won't be able to see the results of your adventure," Ignis said. "I've no doubt your work will find its way into the history books."

Prompto felt guilty for not telling the full truth, but thank the Gods he'd picked a believable excuse to split. It wasn't easy to get one over on Iggy.

"Hey, someone's gotta do it. Might as well be me, right?"

"No one better for the job," Ignis said. "I, for one, am grateful to hear it. It's about time your dream became a plan."

"Don't be," Prompto blurted out before he could stop himself. He grimaced, closed his eyes and sighed. "I mean, it's not like there was time or a reason to do it, you know?"

Ignis fell silent and let his mug rest against the table. Prompto cringed. Even though Ignis couldn't see him, he knew something was off.

"Something the matter?"

"It's nothing," Prompto said. "Just... maybe I shouldn't go just yet. I don't want anyone to think I'm running away or anything, and you guys need help with the plans to rebuild, right? I mean, there's a lot to do..."

"We'll make do without you," Ignis said. "Documentation is important as well, lest we all forget the past."

"Right," Prompto said. "Yeah. You're right."

"Just be sure to check in every now and then," Ignis said. "We may have all gone our separate ways over the years, but that doesn't mean I want it to stay that way. We've all lost too much already."

Prompto pressed his mouth into a thin line, a frown that Ignis didn't see, and willed himself not to cry. It didn't help that Ignis sounded emotional, when he could always be counted on to be the one to keep a cool, level head. It said a lot about how much Ignis was hurting if he couldn't keep the sorrow out of his voice.

"You are coming back eventually, aren't you?" Ignis asked.

"Yeah," Prompto said. He hoped it wasn't a lie. "I'll be back. Probably pop in here or Insomnia from time to time."

"Then it's settled," Ignis said. He stood up and held out his arms. "If you'll indulge me?"

Prompto accepted his embrace without question, but couldn't stop himself from holding on too hard or for too long. At least Ignis didn't seem to mind.

It wasn't a true goodbye, but damn, it felt like one.

* * *

 **~X~**

* * *

Prompto didn't get to say goodbye to Gladio. He couldn't find him and he wasn't answering his phone. Prompto guessed he'd spent the night out drinking with Aranea again and was sleeping it off on the floor of her apartment like always.

He was pretty sure they weren't a thing, since Aranea made it pretty clear she wasn't interested in anything but a drinking buddy who could keep up and who wasn't a subordinate. Either way, it was kind of fun watching the self-proclaimed ladies man get shot down time and time again. That sure didn't stop him from trying, though.

Sort of a relief not to have to go through it again with Gladio. Unlike Ignis, Gladio would ask questions and demand answers. He'd probably tell Prompto he was being an idiot for taking off and wouldn't understand his reasons, and the conversation would end on a tense note, and Prompto didn't want that.

Their relationship had always been a little more complicated than the others. Even after all these years, it was hard to tell if Gladio actually liked him, or if he just put up with him because of Noctis. Maybe that was his own insecurity talking, or maybe he never quite understood Gladio himself, but they didn't always see eye-to-eye on things. Prompto suspected this would be one of those things.

He headed down to the Coernix station, where Talcott waited beside his truck with Iris.

"Ready to head out?" Talcott asked.

"More than ready," Prompto said. "Got the spare gas tank filled up already?"

"It's in the back."

"Perfect."

Prompto watched Lestallum receed behind them, the city that was his part-time home during the darkness, and wondered if he'd really ever see it again. Likely, the next time he saw any of his friends, it would be in Insomnia.

Iris spared him the need to talk or keep the mood light. She dominated the conversation, and Prompto was fine with that, and she was doing a fine job of not letting her heartbreak over Noctis show, just as Prompto was.

Every so often, she gesticulated to make a point, and jabbed him right in the ribs with her bony elbow. Prompto didn't complain but instead pressed himself closer to the door to watch the ruined world pass outside the window.

It occurred to him as he half-listened to them discuss politics, they were the future. They would be the ones to take the reigns of reconstruction and the ones to lead the charge toward the new and better world Noctis envisioned. There was nothing holding them back now. No darkness. No crystal. No daemons. No Ardyn.

Prompto didn't care for politics. His place and interests lay elsewhere. He had things to do, places to go, and no time to waste on pointless debate.

"I'm just saying, Noctis was the last King," Talcott said. "There can't be a King after that, Iris. It doesn't make sense."

"Fine, call it what you want. President or something," Iris said. "Someone has to lead and everybody says Iggy's a shoe-in for the job."

Prompto snorted and leaned his head against the window.

"King Ignis, all business," he said to himself.

"He'd make a great King," Iris said, as if Prompto had just disagreed with her. "Or whatever."

"No doubt," Prompto said. In some ways, Ignis was better suited to rule than Noctis ever was. He knew how to serve and how to lead and was a brilliant tactician to boot. "But... I don't think Iggy's up for the job. At least, not right now. Anyway, maybe he wants to open a restaurant instead. Ever think of that?"

"Well, who would you suggest?"

"Talcott for Prez," Prompto said. "You can be the VP."

"That is so sexist," Iris said. "I mean first of all, I'm way older than he is and I have a ton more life experience, and second, why is it women are supposed to come second to men?"

"You just had to go poke the behemoth, didn't you?" Talcott said under his breath. "Thanks a lot, buddy."

"Sorry dude," Prompto said. "Just trying to lighten the mood."

"That rhymed," Talcott said with a giggle.

"Yeah, he's a regular poet," Iris said rolled her eyes.

"You know it!" Prompto said. "Anyway, don't you guys think it's too soon for all that? Give it a few months. Let the dust settle. Do something fun for a change."

Iris patted Prompto's knee. Her ire switched to sisterly concern in a second.

"Right. How are you holding up?"

Prompto's gaze lifted from the landscape to the puffy clouds, all silver linings and soft edges.

"Can't complain," he said. "Sun's out. It's a beautiful day."

The truck hit a pot hole, sending Iris forward against the dash. She yelped, rubbed her wrist, and muttered a few choice swear words under her breath that would probably make Gladio proud.

"I told you to put on your seat belt," Talcott said. "You're twenty-five, Iris, not twelve."

She cursed again and Prompto faked a big brother's frown of disapproval.

"I should wash your mouth out with soap."

"Oh, please. I've heard you say so much worse."

"Yeah, but I'm a grown up."

"Since when?"

"Since I got old," Prompto said. "And smarter and wiser."

"Thirty's not old," Iris said. "And I'm sooo much smarter than you."

Her elbow caught Prompto in the ribs again and he elbowed back.

"I'll give you that, but I got you beat in the wisdom department, hands down," he joked. "There is none wiser than me, oh tiny grasshopper."

"What. _Ever_. Did you forget about Ignis?"

"Iggy's transcended to a higher plane. He's no longer a mere mortal," Prompto said. He laughed softly, but his mood fell as he thought of Ignis left alone to deal with his grief. "Ever notice how he just... knows things?"

"Spooky, isn't it?" Iris said. "It's hard to get away with anything with him around. He's worse than Gladio. All he has to do is make that face and I confess things I'm not even sure I did wrong."

"Or when he says he's disappointed in you," Talcott added. "That's the worst. It makes me feel awful. I'd rather him yell at me than tell me I let him down."

"Yeah, that one's pretty bad," Prompto agreed.

And that was the main reason Prompto didn't ask Talcott to turn the truck around and take him back to Lestallum. Ignis would not be pleased if Prompto backed out on his mission out of guilt.

Prompto returned his attention to the passing landscape, to the shades of green and gold he hadn't seen in ten years, colors so vivid, it almost hurt his eyes.

"Everything's so green," Prompto said. "Shouldn't everything be dead?"

"Why would it be?" Iris wondered.

"Uh, green things need light to grow?" Prompto said. "Nothing should be alive except for like, mushrooms or whatever. Don't you think that's weird?"

"I hadn't really thought about it," Iris said.

"Who's the smart one now, huh?"

He poked her in the ribs and she returned fire with a hard pinch to his knee. Her grip hit a pressure point that sent a zing up and down his left side. He jumped and shook it off, then resumed his earlier position – head against the window to watch the world go by, as the conversation turned once again to politics and faded to the background.

* * *

 **~X~**

* * *

The motorcycle was where he left it in front of the ruined drugstore, and it beckoned to him as he climbed from the truck. It didn't belong to anyone anymore. No one would miss it if he claimed it for his own.

Armed with a hose, a funnel, and a can of gas, he drained what was left in the tank, then filled it back up. He figured, if he could get it started, he might make it all the way out to Hammerhead on a full tank, and Cindy would be all too pleased to get a chance to work on a city bike.

It was a pathetic excuse to see her, but he knew from experience, the best way to get her attention was to drop something with an engine in front of her and let her have her way with it. Useful parts and tools worked too. It was a win-win. He got his motorcycle, she got something fun to work on.

It took a couple of tries to get it started, and when it did, it ran rough.

"Sounds like it's got a fouled spark plug," Talcott said. "Probably needs an oil change, too."

"Dude," Prompto lamented. "Really?"

"I'm just saying, if you want to make it out to see Miss Cindy, it's gonna need some work," Talcott said. "But I don't mind dropping you off. Monica won't be here until tomorrow, so we've got time."

Prompto sighed. Was he so transparent? Did everyone know?

"There used to be an auto parts store around here somewhere," Prompto said. He turned to the left, then to the right. "That way, I think?"

"Let's go check it out," Iris said.

The auto parts store was two blocks up on the left. The showroom was full of overturned shelves and fixtures, and there wasn't much left but a handful of windshield wiper blades, a bottle of leather cleaner and a stack of cracked and faded car wash buckets.

In the back, though, Prompto found a treasure trove of things Cindy might find useful. Talcott located a couple of spark plugs while Prompto gathered cans of Aerowax, fiberglass coating, brake pads and an assortment of belts and hoses. He didn't know if Cindy could use any of this stuff, but it was worth it to grab what he could just in case. After all, when one approached a Goddess in need of her assistance, it was best to come bearing gifts.

"Bribing her isn't going to work, you know," Iris pointed out.

"I'm not trying to bribe her," Prompto said, offended. "What kind of guy do you think I am?"

"The desperate kind."

"Ugh. Go away, Iris," he said. "You're sounding a little too much like Gladio for my liking."

"Just saying," Iris said. "Anyway, did you ever bother to actually ask her out or tell her how you feel?"

"I'm content to just be her errand boy," Prompto said. "It's a great honor to serve our Lady of the Gears."

"Ugh. Really?"

"Really."

"Liar."

Prompto didn't want to argue the point with her. She wouldn't understand. Talcott did, though, and winked at Prompto behind Iris' back.

After all, Prompto wasn't the only one with a soft spot for someone way out of his league.

* * *

 **~X~**

* * *

Hammerhead swarmed with hunters when they arrived. Piles of fencing lay along the road, the gate torn down and the way open for visitors. That small sign of progress lifted Prompto's melancholy as he climbed from the truck and stretched his legs. The world would recover, slowly but surely. Mankind, after all, was resilient, and would rebound and prosper, sooner rather than later.

Prompto wasn't surprised the garage was open for business. Music and the whir of a power drill bled out into the parking lot as he caught sight of Cindy inside her lair, clad in jeans and a Hammerhead t-shirt.

His heart skipped a beat. Thirty-six and still a knock-out.

 _Get a grip. You're not twenty anymore, and you're not her type_.

Prompto wasn't so sure Cindy had a type, unless cars counted. Over the years he'd noticed the way she gently rebuffed men's advances by playing oblivious, and he'd never really seen her reciprocate. If there were relationships going on behind the scenes, she kept them private.

There was nothing more attractive in the world to Prompto than a girl who had enough confidence in herself to live her dream, expectations and opinions of others be damned. And he knew Cindy well enough now to know that behind the sexed-up outfits, there was a smart, savvy, confident, and driven woman who knew exactly what she was doing, both in business and in skill.

Prompto found that confidence and skill intensely attractive, and he always had. He wouldn't lie and say those incredible legs didn't make him weak in the knees, too, but he admired the hell out of her for knowing herself, knowing what made her happy, and living her life on her own terms, even in the worst of times.

If she ever decided to give him the time of day, Prompto would probably die of happiness, but unless he replaced his limbs with wheels and his heart with an engine, that was unlikely to happen.

No big deal. He'd happily be her errand boy for the rest of his life, no strings attached, no expectations. She didn't owe him anything, and he considered himself lucky to just be her friend and go-to delivery guy.

"Man, I forgot how dusty and dry it was here," Iris complained.

"Compared to the sauna that is Lestallum, I'll take it," Prompto said.

Cindy was clearly busy, but Cid sat in his lawn chair under the umbrella, a glass of iced tea on the table beside him. Just like old times, but not.

"Howdy, ya'll," Cid greeted. "Didn't expect to see ya so soon. Not to say I ain't pleased. How you holdin' up?"

"Hanging in there," Prompto said. "Sun's out. Good enough for me."

"That it is," Cid agreed. "But it's so goddamn bright it's givin' me a headache. Not that I'm complainin', mind you. Take a headache over daemons and darkness any day of the damn week, that's for sure. Talcott, you ain't gonna say hello?"

Talcott leaned down and hugged the old man, his fondness undisguised and a bit of a heartbreak.

"Lookin' good, boy," Cid said. "You get taller every time I see you."

That was no lie. Talcott grew taller than Prompto by the time he was fourteen and continued to grow, though at a slower pace than the overnight boy-to-man spurt at the onset of puberty. There seemed no end to it.

Cid, on the other hand, got smaller every time Prompto saw him.

"Looks like Cindy's pretty busy, huh?" Prompto said.

"She's got her hands full," Cid agreed. "Wish I could pitch in, but my body just ain't cooperatin' today."

"Doubt she even notices," Talcott said.

"I could disappear into thin air and she wouldn't knowd it for days," Cid said. He cleared his throat. "So, what brings y'all out here?"

Prompto hitched his thumb at the motorcycle in the truck bed.

"Picked up a new toy," he said. "Needs a little work and I thought Cindy might get a kick out of, um, you know, a fancy city bike."

"Well, now, that she would," Cid said. He pushed to his feet with a low groan and a muttered complaint about his back. "Bring her on out. I can't fix her but I'd sure love to have me a look."

Prompto and Talcott wrestled the motorcycle out of the truck bed, the tailgate lowered to act as a ramp, and wheeled it over to Cid. The old man circled it and poked at things with soft, unintelligible grunts.

"This is some find, son," Cid said. "This here's not just some fancy city bike, this is a classic. Back from when Reggie and me used to run around. Reckon there ain't many like it left. 'Specially not now."

"You think it can be fixed?" Prompto asked.

"Don't you go doubtin' Cindy's skill," Cid said. "She's the best and she learned from the best. If she can't fix it, no one can."

"Oh, no, I'm not doubting, I was just wondering about parts and stuff," Prompto said.

"Well, it don't look like she needs much, but I'm sure you'll be happy to go on a hunt fer it if Cindy needs somethin'," Cid said.

"You bet I would," Prompto said. "Hey, we also found some other stuff. Thought she might be able to use it."

Cid eyeballed the pile of offerings and nodded.

"She sure would, son," Cid said. "Put 'em on over there by the office, if you don't mind. Best not to disturb her while she's workin'."

Talcott and Iris pitched in, then said their goodbyes as the sun began to set. Prompto watched the tail lights of Talcott's fade into the distance, bound for Insomnia. A bit of sorrow nipped at his heart as an unwelcome thought of being left behind intruded in on his cautious hope.

He wasn't being left behind. He was the one leaving.

Their hopes and dreams lay somewhere beyond the checkpoint in visions of Insomnia resurrected, peace restored, a new world, better lives. Prompto's lay in the opposite direction, destination undetermined.

Prompto didn't blame them for wanting the old life back, but he couldn't find any comfort in thoughts of the future. For him, there were no dreams of tomorrow, next year, or ten years down the road. There was only now, today, this second, and no amount of talk about the future was going to change that.

* * *

 **~X~**

* * *

Prompto grabbed some dinner from the food truck parked next to the weapons truck and ate under-seasoned and overcooked meat from a stick. Not as good as Takka, and not even in the same realm as Iggy, but the meal filled his stomach, and that was the best he could hope for.

Cindy looked to be busy for a while, so Prompto decided to turn in for the night. The camper was spoken for, and the field behind the garage was littered with hunter's tents. He could join them, but was in no mood to be surrounded by people.

Prompto surveyed the ridge above the Hammerhead, a place where he once made an absolute fool of himself for the sake of a photo, and decided he'd make camp there for the night. After all, there were no more daemons to contend with, no more reasons to fear the dark, and he could safely sleep under the stars without runes to protect him. Maybe, he'd even be able to get a good shot of Hammerhead at night.

He was about to head up the hill when Cid waved him back over to his lawn chair.

"You got time to have a beer with an old man?" Cid asked.

A beer actually sounded good, though Prompto gave up drinking somewhere around age twenty-five, fearing overindulgence would either get him killed or he'd wind up an alcoholic. But back then, it was almost a custom to go out, kill some daemons, and get wasted because they lived through it. Everybody did it, even Ignis from time to time, though only if the fight was particularly nasty, and Ignis never drank to the point of sloppy drunk the way Prompto and Gladio did.

For about a year, Prompto drank all the time. To be cool. To fit in. To kill all the bad dreams. To dull the ache of grief. It became a problem, almost got him killed, so he stopped.

These days, Prompto abstained almost entirely, but he could be persuaded on special occasions. He supposed this counted. He'd just laid his best friend to rest. No reason he couldn't indulge for the sake of a toast.

"Sure," Prompto said. "I could use a cold one."

He took a seat in the spare lawn chair and accepted the bottle Cid passed his way. He cracked it open and lifted the bottle toward the setting sun.

"This one's for you, buddy," he said.

Cid agreed with a grunt, clinked the neck of his bottle to Prompto's, and took a swallow. Neither said anything for a while. To Prompto, the idea of talking would ruin the beauty of the sunset.

It still made him sad to watch another day die, but now it filled him with apprehension, too. What if the sun set and never came back up again? What if Noctis' sacrifice was all in vain?

He'd just have to trust that it was finished. Noctis wouldn't rest easy until it was really and truly done.

"Like to have broke my heart when I heard the news," Cid said. "Got the sun back, but we lost our boy."

Prompto nodded his agreement. There weren't any words to describe how it felt to be there at the end, and he wasn't even going to try to describe it.

"Damn all the Kings and the Gods, too, for takin' him."

"That's blasphemy," Prompto said, but without much heat.

"Boy was born to die," Cid said. "It ain't fair."

Prompto didn't disagree with Cid. No explanation could justify Noctis' death or make sense of the path he was born to walk. It wasn't fair. It would never be fair.

"I watched that goddamned crystal suck the life out of Reggie," Cid said. "I fought at his side, and for what? So his boy could die for some old grudge. It ain't _right_."

"He died for peace," Prompto said. "Not the Gods. Not Ardyn or his grudge. He died so we'd get to live."

"I know all that," Cid said. "Don't change the fact that it wasn't his fight to begin with."

"Life's not fair, old man," Prompto said, thinking of how they got Noctis back just long enough to make losing him hurt all over again. "We don't always get to choose where we came from or where we're going..."

Cid reached over and patted Prompto's hand, and Prompto left the thought unfinished.

"I'm glad you boys was there for him in the end," Cid said. "That he could call y'all his brothers, even after him bein' gone so long."

"Always," Prompto said. His eyes burned with tears he refused to shed. "Forever."

Cid finished his beer and opened another. They sat in silence as the last of the light faded from the sky.

"You know," Cid said after a while, "I seen a lot of boys come round lookin' to get Cindy's attention, but I ain't never seen one stick around after he figured out she ain't got the time or inclination."

Prompto put a hand to his face. He'd wondered over the years if Cid noticed, and if he did, when he'd get the overprotective grandpa speech. Apparently, the time was now.

"My girl's only got one thing on her mind, and it ain't got nothin' to do with courtin'," Cid said.

"Married to her work, and all. I know," Prompto said. "You don't have to tell me. I get it."

"Well," Cid drawled, "I reckon you do, and I reckon you respect her for it too, unlike these other yahoos that come 'round thinkin' they can change her mind."

"I'd never try to change her mind," Prompto said. "I like that she's so focused."

"I suppose that's what I'm getting' at," Cid said. "She's so focused, she don't see the desert for the cactuar. And she's got boys comin' 'round all day long, so much that she don't notice the attention no more."

Prompto frowned at Cid and set his empty bottle aside. This was not the conversation he anticipated.

"I'm not sure what you're trying to tell me here, dude," Prompto said.

"You want her to give you a chance, you gotta make it known, son," Cid said. "She ain't gonna see it otherwise, no matter how many brake pads you drop in her lap."

"Wait, so... are you saying... you... want _me_... to ask her out?"

Cid cackled, cracked another beer and chugged half of it at once. For a tiny old guy, he could sure put them away quick. Prompto would be passed out already if he tried to keep up.

"You're a good boy, and as far as I know, you ain't ever expected nothin' in return for all the fetchin' you done over the years or never done nothin' to make her uncomfortable," Cid said. "That's a hellova lot more more'n I can say for most of these other fellers. Rather see her with someone like you than any one of them. 'Least I knowd you'd treat her right."

"Wow," Prompto said. "I... don't know what to say."

Cid pushed another beer across the table. Prompto refused it with a shake of his head. One was enough.

"Say you'll think about it," Cid said. "Truth is, I'd like to see her settled and thinkin' about the future before my time comes. That ain't gonna happen without a little push in the right direction."

Prompto's chest tightened and for a second, he couldn't breathe. He would love to be that guy, but it just wasn't going to happen in this lifetime, even with Cid in his corner.

"Thanks for the advice, buddy, but she probably won't say yes," Prompto said. "Besides, I'm heading out as soon as the bike's road-worthy."

"Well, I ain't gonna stop ya," Cid said. "But if you change your mind, I'll put in a good word."

"Appreciate that," Prompto said. "I should probably make camp before it gets late. I'm beat."

He got up and reached for his bag.

"Thanks for the beer," he said. "See you in the morning."

"Sleep well, kid."

He climbed the ridge above Hammerhead and lit his lantern. No point in a fire. The night was warm and he didn't plan to be awake long.

It was so nice out, he didn't bother with the tent, either. He laid his sleeping bag out on the ground, took out his camera and snapped photos of the clouds and stars with the low light filter on until his eyelids grew too heavy to look through the viewfinder.

* * *

 **~X~**

* * *

Prompto woke before dawn, drawn from sleep by the subtle shift in light above. He blinked at the sky, stars still visible to the west and the first sign of dawn in the east, and he sat up with a yawn.

No bad dreams. No more eternal night. Morning was here.

For breakfast he ate a pack of crackers and watched the colors change on the horizon. He dusted off the crumbs and retrieved his camera, climbed on top of a boulder and waited. Gradually, the sky brightened with bands of gold and pink and lavender and dark blue, shades reflected in the thunderheads building to the northeast.

No photo would ever capture the intensity of color, no matter how hard he tried or what filter he used, but he didn't waste the opportunity to try. He snapped photo after photo as the hues changed to hot orange and gold as dawn broke.

So engrossed in it was he that he didn't hear the soft crunch of gravel behind him until Cindy was already climbing the rock to join him. Prompto jumped, almost dropped his camera, and broke into a stupid grin.

"Hey there," she said. "Didn't startle ya did I?"

"Uh, no," he said. "I was just taking some pictures."

 _Great job stating the obvious, you idiot. Now she probably thinks you were dropped on your head as a child._

"Can I see?"

"Sure, but... they're not as good as the real thing," he said and nodded to the sunrise. "I don't think anything can really do it justice."

Cindy took his offered camera anyway and scrolled through the shots as blue began to overtake the gold in the sky beyond.

"These are real purty," she said. "Like somethin' you used to see in magazines."

"Thanks," he said. "That's really sweet of you to say."

She handed the camera back and Prompto secured it in his lap. He wished he could take a picture of her in this light. The rising sun set her dark blonde curls ablaze in shades of amber and gold and made the green of her eyes stand out like they were back-lit from within.

Half his reasons for this trip were about doing the things he never had the courage to do, and so far, he was failing miserably. He couldn't even summon the nerve to ask for a single photo.

But what was the worst that could happen? She'd think he was a creep and say no?

"Hey, uh, Cindy?" he said and lifted the camera from his lap. "You think I could... take your picture?"

"Right now?" she asked. "Oh, sweetie, I'm a hot mess. I ain't even brushed my hair this mornin'."

"You're beautiful," he blurted out, mentally punched himself in the face, and sighed. "I mean, the light... It's... good. It's doing stuff..."

 _It's doing stuff? Gods, what is wrong with me? Maybe I really was dropped on my head as a child. Maybe_ that's _what's wrong with me._

"If you insist," she said, obviously pleased to be asked. "Snap away."

Prompto looked at her through the lens and he stopped breathing for a second at the accidental perfection of the frame. Cindy Aurum, her eyes and hair aglow, with Hammerhead gleaming fire in the background, might as well have been an actual goddess in this light. Hard to imagine anything more perfect or more beautiful in the world than this.

He snapped three photos, then wordlessly showed them to her.

She didn't say anything at first. Prompto was sure she hated them.

"These are gorgeous... you got real talent, Prompto," she said. "Ain't nobody ever made me look like that in a picture before."

"Eh, you made it easy," he said with a smile. "Didn't even have to try."

"You're a sweetheart."

Cindy rubbed her hands together, both already smudged with grease, like she just couldn't resist tinkering with something before her morning hike, and turned her gaze to the horizon.

"I'm real sorry about His Highness," she said. "I cried when I heard. First time I cried over anything in years."

"You can call him Noctis, you know," Prompto said. "He wouldn't mind. He actually... _really_ hated people calling him by his title."

"Noctis, then," she said. "S'pose when it came down to it, he was human, like everybody else."

"That he was," Prompto said.

Noctis was a man with faults and bad habits and a big heart and more courage than anyone Prompto knew. He certainly wouldn't have been able to walk into that throne room prepared to die, all by himself. Of course, Prompto was prepared to die on the steps of the Citadel that night, too, but he had friends by his side. He wasn't _alone_.

Cindy squared her shoulders and turned back to him, all business now.

"Cid showed me the stuff you brought," she said. "I about peed myself when I saw there was twelve cans of Aerowax in there. I thought that stuff was gone for good!"

Prompto smiled. The Goddess had accepted his offering and was very, very pleased.

"Figured since it was just lying around, you might have a use for it."

"Do I ever!" she said. "I appreciate you thinkin' of me, especially right now with everything goin' on and all."

Prompto swallowed around the lump in his throat. As sincere as the condolences were, he'd rather not hear them anymore.

"So, how about we go see if we can get that motorcycle running again?" she said. "Get you back on the road. Hell, I'll even paint her for ya, if you want."

"Aww, you don't have to do that," Prompto protested. "I'm sure you've got too much work as it is."

"Well, truth is, I been itchin' to paint somethin', since it wasn't much in demand with it bein' too dark for it to matter," she said, "but you been real good to me, so consider it a thank you for bein' such a sweetheart."

"When you put it that way, it's kinda hard to say no," he said.

"Then you just decide what coat you fancy and you let me know," she said. "Meet you at the garage in a few?"

Prompto stood up and dusted himself off, his left leg asleep from sitting too long.

"Sure," he said. "See you in a few."

He watched her go, torn between worry that he'd made the wrong choice about leaving, and utter delight his gamble paid off. When she disappeared down the trail, he turned to collect his things to find Noctis standing beside his sleeping bag, arms crossed over his chest, looking exactly the same as he did the day they first stood upon this hallowed hill.

Prompto blinked to clear the vision away, but Noctis stayed put.

"About time, don't you think?" Noctis asked. "It only took you ten years to ask for a picture."

Speechless, Prompto took a step back, almost tripped over a rock and sputtered at his friend. Or the ghost of his friend. Or whatever this was.

"Noct?" Prompto asked. "Is that really you, buddy?"

"Oh, Great Goddess, something-something, Garage of Gears, blah-blah," Noctis mocked, way too amused with himself to be anything but the real deal. "I can't believe you woke me up for that."

"You loved it," Prompto said.

"Too bad you didn't get to give the whole speech. I bet it was good."

Gods, he looked so real. Either he was really here, or Prompto was losing his mind.

"Don't worry about the guys," Noctis said. "You do what you need to do, okay?"

"Iggy's really upset," Prompto said. "More than he's letting on."

"I know," Noctis said. "But you have your reasons for doing this, and trust me, I get it. I would have done the same if I got the chance. Don't waste it, okay?"

Prompto bowed his head and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Promise me."

Prompto nodded, unable to lift his head to look Noctis in the eye.

"I'm not going to waste a second, buddy," he said to the dirt beneath his feet. "I'm doing this as much for you as I am for me, you know."

"I know."

"Tell me something, Noct," Prompto said, "am I imagining this, or are you really like, _here_?"

Noctis didn't answer. When Prompto looked up, Noctis wasn't there.

Maybe it really was just a hallucination. Grief and guilt talking.

But if so, why were there Noct-sized boot prints beside his sleeping bag?


	3. Captain Underpants

Notes: Apologies if this chapter is a little... lower quality, higher crack content. I'm having some personal issues that have made writing anything at all a struggle , but I really wanted to update, so maybe something is better than nothing?

Thanks for reading!

* * *

 **THREE**

* * *

~X~

* * *

 ** _Bucket List 2.0_**

 _2\. Kweh!_

* * *

~X~

* * *

Prompto flipped through a color sample book, torn between chocobo yellow and a classic metallic anthracite, while Cindy took a call in the office. Oil dripped into a pan beneath the motorcycle, black as miasma and thick as a three-week-old Ebony. Besides that, the bike didn't need much work, and Cindy swore it would run like a dream when she was done with it.

Every now and then, the world rumbled and the walls of the garage shook like someone pissed off Ramuh. The breeze through the open door of the garage smelled of rain, the air uncharacteristically humid, and Prompto set aside the book to watch the storm roll in.

The clouds turned a sickly shade of green, not so far off the color of a three-day old bruise. Lightning tore through the heavens above his Hallowed Hill and Prompto jumped at the near-instant clap of thunder that followed, humbled and respectful of nature's awesome power.

He snapped a few shots for posterity and managed to capture a single worthy image of the thunderheads back-lit by distant lightning. That one was definitely going in the portfolio.

"Gettin' nasty out there," Cindy said from the door of the office. "Hope the power don't go out."

"It held through ten years of darkness," Prompto said without turning around. "I'd say it's pretty stable."

"S'pose you're right," she said. "You decide on a coat yet?"

"I'm gonna go with the yellow," he said. "I think."

"You think?"

"I like the anthracite, too."

"Well, if you need help decidin', the yella's good for visibility. Nobody's gonna miss you with a color like that," she said. "But I'd say the anthracite is awful classy. Guess it just depends on which is more important to you. Safety or looks."

It would be smart to go with the safety color. But hell, he fought daemons alone, so clearly his own personal safety wasn't a priority. And damned if he didn't always seem to favor pretty things over practical ones.

"I'll go with the anthracite," he said.

"You sure?"

"Yep," he said. "No. Wait. _Yellow_."

"Maybe I should give you a few more minutes to decide."

"I've decided," he said. "I want the yellow. If I don't like it, I can always come back, right?"

"You betcha," she said. "Yella it is. I'll have her ready for ya in a jiffy."

"In a jiffy, huh?" he said with smile.

"Guess your city slang's rubbed off on me."

Prompto repressed the urge to laugh. Adorable how she thought the phrase was fancy city slang when it was actually something Prompto lifted from a favorite cartoon character when he was a kid. He was the only person he knew outside of the under-ten set that used it on a regular.

"You mind doin' me a favor while you wait?"

"Anything," Prompto said.

Even if it meant slogging through some dungeon by himself, on the hunt for some random part, Prompto was game. Even if he hated every second of it. Even if he was about to risk life and limb for a rare bottle of blinker fluid, if Cindy asked, it was as good as done.

"I think Paw-Paw's over at the diner micromanagin' the clean up, but he might be getting' in the way. Think maybe you could give Takka a break? You know how nervous he gets when Paw-paw starts barkin' orders at him."

"Gotcha," Prompto said. "Wouldn't want Paw-paw to get shanked, now would we?"

"Paw-paw's like to shank him back," Cindy said. "He may be old, but he's still meaner than a three-headed Dualhorn."

Prompto cringed at the imagery. A single-headed Dualhorn was menace enough. Any extra heads were just unnecessary.

"When he wants to be," Prompto said, thinking of their conversation the night before. "As cranky as he is, there's a great big, soft, squishy heart hiding behind all those wrinkles."

"True enough," Cindy said with a smile. "Just keep him outta the way if you can."

"On it."

It started to rain as Prompto stepped outside. Fat raindrops hit the pavement around his feet and he stopped for a second to breathe it in. It rained during the darkness, but it wasn't the kind of rain that washed the day clean. Not like this.

He used to take things like this for granted, a few raindrops cause for complaints about ruining his hair. Not that he really ever cared that much if rain or wind destroyed his 'do, but the others found his dramatic flailing funny, so he kept doing it to get a laugh. He loved the attention back then. It almost made up for the attention he never got at home.

Face to the sky, Prompto closed his eyes and thought of how Noctis used to hate going out in the rain. Any excuse to stay inside. He even faked sick a few times, until Ignis caught on and forced him to go to school anyway.

"Wait, you still go running when it rains?" fifteen-year-old Noctis had asked Prompto at lunch one day. " _Why_?"

"I'm not made of sugar," Prompto said. "I won't melt."

"Why run though? The subway will take you anywhere you want to go."

"Dude, I'm not _going_ anywhere," Prompto said. "I run to stay in shape."

"You look like you're in pretty good shape to me."

Noctis scooped every last bit of his broccoli onto Prompto's plate.

"That's because I run. Every day. Whether it rains or not," Prompto said and speared a bite of broccoli with his fork. "And I eat my veggies. Every day."

"Gross."

"Man cannot live on hamburgers alone, buddy."

"Watch me."

Man, he'd envied Noctis his ability to eat nothing but crap and not gain an ounce. For Prompto, even with his tendency toward healthy eating and regular exercise, it was a struggle. He never wanted to be that guy again, but life was too short to be concerned with an extra pound or two. The older he got, the less it worried him.

His stomach growled at the thought of food. If he was lucky, maybe Takka would have the grill up and running. Maybe he'd even have some new menu item for Prompto to sample. Wouldn't that be nice?

He dashed from the mouth of the garage, to the awning above the gas pumps as a peal of thunder rumbled the pavement under his feet. He glanced at the sky nervously. It would suck to make it this far in life, only to be struck down by lightning.

As he was about to make the sprint from the shop to the diner, his phone rang. He checked the display and groaned internally. This was expected, sooner than this actually, and he grudgingly hit the accept button.

"Where the hell are you?" Gladio demanded. "You just take off without saying anything? What the hell is wrong with you?"

"I can explain-"

Something big and yellow, followed by a tangle of white and pink darted behind a pile of discarded fencing. Something feathered, on two legs.

Could it be? Out _here_?

A _chocobo_?

The wild ones were supposed to be nearly extinct. Domesticated chocobos were fairly common, but the way Wiz told it, there weren't many left out in the wilds. They either starved to death or daemons got them.

Prompto didn't like to think about that. He preferred to believe they'd just been lying low all this time, safe and healthy and not on the verge of disappearing from the world.

"I talked to Vyv, you know," Gladio said, "and I'm calling BS. You lied to Iggy."

The white and pink thing tangled on the fencing, and beneath the rumble of rain on the awning above him, came a very distinct and very distressed "Kweh!"

Prompto didn't hear a word of whatever Gladio was yelling at him. There was a chocobo in need and he was obligated to save it.

"I'll call you back, big guy," Prompto said. "In the middle of something."

"Don't you hang up on me!"

"Sorry, buddy," Prompto said. "Gotta go."

" _Prompto_ -!"

He hit the end button and stashed the phone in his pocket. It immediately started to ring again. Gladio was going to give him hell, but it was worth it if it meant he could prove there were still wild chocobos out there.

Prompto braved the steady rain and darted across the lot, splashing through puddles as he ignored the repeated, angry text chimes from his phone. He vaulted the low wall and landed in the branches of a dead, prickly shrub. Sharp, spiny needles poked through the fabric of his pants and into his skin. He jerked back, only to be stabbed in the back of the thigh by more.

Try as he might, he couldn't seem to untangle himself. The shrub wanted blood. Maybe, it wanted his pants too, judging by the way its gnarled limbs clung to the material. The more he fought it, the more entangled he became.

His phone rang for the fourth time. In a huff, he answered.

"I cannot talk right now, Gladio. A shrub is trying to eat me."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Maybe it just likes my pants. I dunno. You're distracting me." Another needle poked him in the calf. He kicked the stalk in frustration and heard a second, more desperate wark from the left. The Chocobo was definitely in trouble. "Goddamn, stupid, useless plant! Lemmie go!"

"You fighting mandrakes or something?"

"Just a shrub." He kicked one leg out to see if that would work, but all it did was tear a hole in the knee of his left pant leg. "I'm gonna die here. The plant of death demands I pay the blood price. It's been nice knowing you, big guy."

"You fought daemons alone and you're gonna let yourself be bested by a shrub?"

"Easy for you to say," Prompto said. "You're not the one it's trying to kill."

"Quit being a wuss," Gladio said. "You got a pocket knife on you?"

"When don't I?"

"Then use it."

The rain started to fall harder and soaked through his shirt. Cold water trickled down his spine and spread out along the waistband of his pants. Thank all the Gods for waterproof phone cases, otherwise his second most prized piece of technology would be toast.

"You in some kind of trouble?" Gladio asked.

"Besides the blood-thirsty, pant-eating _plant-of-doom_ kind of trouble?" Prompto said. "Everything's just chipper. Why do you ask?"

"Because you're acting weird," Gladio said. "And not your normal kind of weird. Where are you, anyway?"

Prompto switched the phone to his other ear and unfolded his utility knife as another needle stabbed him in the ankle.

"Hammerhead."

Gladio's laugh was knowing with just a touch of derision. Prompto realized his mistake too late. He should have lied.

"Desperate much?" he said. "When are you gonna give up on that?"

"I am not being weird. And who are you to call me desperate, big guy? I'm not the one sleeping off hangovers on Aranea's floor because I'm not worthy of the couch," Prompto said.

"We're just drinking buddies," Gladio said. "I've got a girlfriend."

"And yet I've never met her."

"Yeah, you have," Gladio said. He sounded so smug.

Prompto sawed through the worst of the offending branches, kicked his thumb and cursed.

"That's not mysterious at all," Prompto said. " _Wait_... It better not be Cindy."

Gladio snorted.

"No, but damn if I wouldn't let her check under my hood..."

"Uh, dude, could you not?" Prompto said. "That's the Goddess you're talking about."

"Give it up," Gladio said. "It's pathetic."

"It really is, yet here I am," Prompto agreed. "Anyway. Lemmie call you back, buddy. I'm gonna torch this thing. Or stab it to death. Maybe both. I haven't decided yet."

"Say hi to Cindy for me."

"Not on your life, dude," Prompto said.

He ended the call and took on the arduous task of freeing himself from the multiple snares of limbs and thorns. All the while, he worried for the chocobo. What if it was hurt? Sick? Hungry? He hadn't thought to pop into the diner and ask if Takka had anything it might like. Oh well. Too late now.

In the end, his favorite pants were ruined. He could patch the smaller holes, but the ones near the hem and the seam along the seat were unsalvagable. They were hunters pants, and he could probably replace them with a dozen more just like them, but there was something about how these in particular fit. Not to mention, they carried him through some pretty rough times during the darkness.

"They're just pants," Noctis said. He sat on the wall a few feet away, untouched by rain or wind. "No big deal."

"It's the sentimental value," Prompto said. "They've been places."

"Every good thing must come to an end."

"Yeah, don't remind me."

"Are you just going to stand there?"

"Oh, shit! The chocobo!"

The murderous plant and the sad fate of his favorite pants forgotten, Prompto hurried over to the pink and white bundle flapping wetly in the wind.

He bent down, utility knife at the ready and lifted the damp wad of fabric to inspect it.

It was an Imperial flag, so faded the red had gone pink, but ultimately recognizeable for what it was without fully unfurling it.

Even now, the Empire reared its ugly head and left claw marks all over the landscape.

He followed the shredded flag to a frayed cord, then followed the cord to a scaly gray leg attached to a scrawny juvenile chocobo. She wasn't full-grown, and somewhere between fluffy, fuzzy little wuzzums and mature, tall, leggy and majestic adult.

She gave another cry as she attempted to back away from him. With the cord wrapped around her leg, there was nowhere for her to go and she flapped uselessly as she tried to find her footing again.

"It's okay," Prompto said. "I'm here to help."

He eased closer, on his knees now, and spoke softly, explaining step by step what he was doing and why. The bird didn't understand him, but the tone of his voice seemed to calm her down. She gave a plaintive kweh and ruffled her damp feathers. Prompto's face was showered in droplets of water in addition to the rain.

"That's a good girl," he said. "Just stay still and I'll cut you free."

She nipped at his hand when his fingers found knot around her leg and he pulled back with a hiss. He wished he had some greens to distract her with. That knot wasn't coming undone without a lot of work. In her terrified state, she could take off a finger or two with that sharp beak.

"Hey now," he said. "I'm pretty attached to my fingers, so maybe you could avoid trying to separate us?"

"Kweh!" she cried. This time, it sounded less distressed than enraged.

Well, he'd just have to settle for cutting the line. Maybe, once she was calm, she would let him undo the rest.

He sawed through the cord, now soaked to the bone and heedless of the thunder or lightning. She nipped him again, this time a sharp peck against the top of his head.

"I know. This sucks, but I'm almost done, okay?"

The second the tension in the cord broke, the bird was on her feet. She gave a loud wark of displeasure and took off across the plain.

Prompto shot to his feet and dashed after her, half-stumbling in his sodden pants and waterlogged boots. Even somewhat impaired by the rope around her ankle, she was fast.

She darted behind a boulder and Prompto dashed around the other side, nearly collided with her and skidded to a stop.

"It's okay," he promised and carefully removed his phone while she regarded him with one eye. "I'm a friend."

He aimed the phone at the bird, pushed the button on the camera function and lined up the shot.

"Say fuzzy pickles," he said.

But the chocobo warked in protest and was gone in a flash, leaving him with a snapshot of a boulder and the barest suggestion of bright gold tail feathers. He followed, but the chocobo was already too far ahead of him to even think about giving chase.

Defeated, he stopped running and watched her disappear into the desert.

"Win some lose some," Noctis said. "You did good."

Prompto turned around to face the ghost of his friend. This time, Noctis appeared as he was the last time Prompto saw him. Scruffy, long-haired, and older. And still miraculously dry.

"At least I got her loose."

"My hero."

Prompto smiled, though sorrow stabbed at him. This couldn't be anything but wishful thinking or a hallucination. Either way, being reminded that Noctis was gone only made it hurt more.

"You're not really real, are you?" he asked and flexed his tingling left hand. "I'm just imagining this."

"I'm real if you believe I am."

"Are you haunting me or something?"

Noctis laughed and elbowed Prompto in the side. Prompto actually felt the bone jab into his ribs, real and solid and like Noctis was actually there and not a projection or a spirit.

"You should be so lucky."

"I'm just losing my mind, then."

"Bound to happen eventually. You are kind of a weirdo."

Prompto took out his phone and squinted at Noctis. "If I take a picture of you, will you be in it?"

"Only one way to find out."

There was nothing but landscape in the viewfinder.

"Man, it would be so cool if you showed up in pictures like Gentiana or Carbuncle," Prompto said. "The guys would flip."

And just like that, Noct was gone again. This time, the rain washed away the traces of his boot prints, leaving behind vague divits in the dirt that filled with water and blended in with every other puddle around him.

* * *

~X~

* * *

Prompto approached the diner, dripping wet and cold, to find Cid arguing with Takka on the step. They both stopped talking when Cid spotted him. A moment later, Cid started to laugh.

"What in tarnation is wrong with you, boy?" Cid asked. "You look like you just wrestled a cactuar in a mud puddle."

Prompto looked down at himself. He did look like he'd spent an hour rolling around in mud, in spite of the rain. It clung to his boots and his pants and even his arms, streaked through by rivulets of rain. He reached up and touched his hair and found clumps of sand and a tender spot on his scalp.

"It was a chocobo, actually."

He decided not to mention the shrub. Or Noctis. He didn't want anyone thinking he was going nuts and seeing things. Even if he worried about that himself.

"A chocobo?" Cid asked. "You sure you didn't fall down and hit your head? There ain't been chocobos 'round these parts for ten years, son. Anyway, heard the daemons got 'em all. Ain't none left."

"It was definitely a chocobo," Prompto said.

"Sure it wasn't a cockatrice?" Cid asked. "They don't come 'round here much but certain times of the year, but there's plenty of them still alive. Guess they were too damn mean for daemons to get 'em."

"I know the difference between a chocobo and a cockatrice," Prompto said. "It was a chocobo. A young one."

"If you say so, boy," Cid said and squinted at Prompto's shredded, ruined pants. "Moogles, huh?"

"No, I told you it was -"

"I mean your britches, boy," Cid said and pointed to the pink moogle print boxer jocks peeking out of a rather large hole in the upper thigh of Prompto's pants. "And here I thought I was dealin' with a grown man."

"I find it hard to believe you don't have a few pairs of these yourself, old man," Prompto retorted. "Bet you've got a whole collection of catuar boxers in a drawer somewhere."

"Hunnh, can't say if I do or don't," Cid answered. "Takka, hand me that hose over there. Turn on the water."

Before Prompto could even ask what Cid planned to do with the hose, a strong stream of icy cold water blasted him in the stomach. Chunks of mud slid off his shirt and onto the pavement.

"Hey, what's the big idea?!"

"Thought you could use a shower," Cid said. "Go on now, strip. Bound to be some sand in yer britches, too."

"Uhh," Prompto began, but realized Cid wasn't off the mark. There was definitely sand in places where sand shouldn't be. "Hang on. My phone."

He passed his phone to Takka, then peeled off his shirt, kicked off his ruined boots and pants and let Cid have at it. This was probably not what Cindy had in mind when she said to keep Cid occupied, but whatever worked, he supposed.

Cid cackled as he hosed Prompto down, from head to toe, until all traces of sand and mud were washed away. He stood there dripping and cold, praying that Cindy stayed in the garage, lest she be exposed to the dude version of a wet t-shirt contest. His soaked moogle boxers left nothing to the imagination.

"Hope you got some dry clothes, boy," Cid said. "Ones that ain't full of holes."

He did, but in his bag in the garage. He'd rather drip dry out here than go fetch them. The last thing he wanted was for Cindy to think he was being a creep.

"Here's a towel, son," Takka said. "Go on and dry yerself off."

"Thanks, buddy," Prompto said and applied the towel to his hair.

"S'pose Cindy's got that motorbike all torn apart right now," Cid said.

"Painting it."

"Well, you go on and get yourself some dry clothes on while she's busy and come on inside when you ain't drippin' everywhere," Cid said. "I'll keep you company."

He supposed he could sneak into the garage and grab his bag while Cindy was in the paint booth. As the pair returned to the diner, Prompto wrapped the towel around his waist, ducked behind a stack of crates, and peeled off his soaking underwear, then his socks and left them in a soggy pile on the ground.

Prompto crept toward the mouth of the garage, looked inside and found it deserted. The light inside the paint booth was on. Cindy was busy. Thank all the Gods.

He rummaged through his bag and found a pair of chocobo printed fitted boxers, socks, jeans and a t-shirt with a faded advertisement for chocobo racing on the front, the sleeves long ago sheared off. It still smelled like laundry detergent. Even better, it was dry.

Just as he dropped the towel to pull on his undies, Cindy's phone rang. The door of the paint booth opened and Cindy, goggles on, stepped out.

Prompto screamed, panicked, and threw the chocobo underwear in Cindy's general direction. They landed at her feet and she slowly removed her goggles to stare at them.

Thorougly humiliated, Prompto ducked behind a shelf, only to find out the shelf hid nothing. Poor Cindy was treated to a full-frontal view as Prompto realized not only had he accidentally lobbed a pair of boxer jocks at her, she could see everything. The phone kept ringing.

"Didn't know you was in here," Cindy said and covered her eyes with her hands. "Maybe you wanna use the office? For a little... privacy?"

"Right," he said. "Sorry. The office. I'll use it. Can I, uh, just grab... underwear?"

If he could have punched himself in the eye, he would have.

In the office, the ancient answering machine picked up the call. Cid's muffled laughter came from behind the closed office door.

Cindy turned her back but he distinctly heard her giggle as he wrapped the towel around his waist and darted around the shelf to retrieve his underpants.

"Chocobos, huh?" she said to the wall as he snatched them up. "Well, guess that ain't a surprise."

Prompto groaned out loud. Of course she'd seen them, but at least she chose not to comment on anything else.

Gods. How embarrassing. He knew better than to risk it and he silently wished for the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

"Ain't like I've never seen a grown man naked before," she said as he gathered his clothes and secured the towel around his waist. "Just a little surprised is all."

"I'm... just going to go die now," he said. "Tell Iggy I wanna be cremated and my ashes scattered on that hill across the street."

Cindy laughed louder and Prompto's face flamed. The tops of his ears burned. If he died, it would be of humiliation.

He dashed to the office, shut the door and sank to the floor, sure he could never come back here again. He'd forever be the guy she found standing nude in her garage. The guy who assaulted her with chocobo underwear.

It took a minute to recover, and when he did, he dressed in a flash. If he was lucky, Cindy would go back to work and he could sneak out without being spotted. After that, he could run away and never come back.

He wasn't so lucky. She was waiting for him, sitting cross-legged beside the motorcycle. His blush deepened and he couldn't manage to look her in the eye.

"As soon as the paint's dry, you should be good to go," Cindy said, as if what just happened hadn't happened at all. "She'll probably need some new tires soon, but that ain't urgent. Got a few thousand miles left on 'em, I'd wager."

"Great," he said. "Hey, um... sorry about that. You know, earlier."

"Ain't no big deal," she said. Then she frowned. "Did Paw-Paw hit you with somethin'?"

"No. Why?"

"You're bleedin'."

Prompto touched the spot where the chocobo pecked him in the head, and lifted his fingers away.

"Oh, no," he said with a cautious laugh. "It was a chocobo. That's why I was... you know... not wearing clothes."

"A chocobo stole your clothes?" Cindy asked doubtfully.

His cheeks flamed again. He could still run away, but then she'd think he was a nutcase. A bigger nutcase than she already thought he was. The King of all Wackadoodles.

"No, this shrub tried to steal my pants... I tried to help the chocobo and..." he sighed and covered his face with his hands. "It's a long story that ends with Paw-Paw hosing me down in the parking lot."

Cindy seemed confused, and rightfully so, but she just shrugged and dusted off her gloves.

"I got a potion 'round here somewhere if you need it," she said.

The wound didn't feel that bad. He'd had worse. This one would heal on its own, just like the rest.

"I'm good," he said. "Just... I swear I'm not a creep!"

"Never thought you was," Cindy said with a smile.

Relieved, Prompto relaxed and crouched down beside the bike. His face still burned, but at least she hadn't screamed, pointed and laughed, or brained him with her wrench. That would have been the end of him.

"Mind doin' me one more favor?" she asked.

"Sure," he said.

"Takka called over earlier to say he made us some sandwiches for lunch," she said. "Mind grabbin' it while I finish up?"

"That I can do," he said.

"Just... try not to come back nekkid this time," she said, unable to hide a grin.

Her eyes sparkled and Prompto was sure she was holding back laughter at his expense.

"I swear you'll never see me naked again," he said seriously. "Crownsguard's honor."

Cindy dissolved into laughter. Just a giggle at first, then full-on belly-laughter. She wiped her eyes and tried to get control of herself, but every time she shut it down, she began to laugh again. Miffed, Prompto frowned and crossed his arms over his chest.

"I ain't laughin' at you," she said between giggles. "I'm so sorry, sweetie, but I think Paw-Paw sent you on over here all wet on purpose."

Prompto dropped his defensive pose, wondering what she meant, and at the same time, thinking of Cid's not-so-subtle comments about Cindy's availability the night before.

"He said somethin' this mornin' at breakfast," she said and wiped her eyes. "Said I needed to get on and get myself hitched to a good man before everything starts to sag. Might'a dropped your name a few times in the process."

"Oh."

Was she laughing because she couldn't possibly consider him a catch? Or because Cid was being pushy about it? Or because she'd gotten an eyeful and found it hilarious?

"Guess you'll have to set him straight," Prompto said as lightly as he could. "I'm not exactly marriage material."

Cindy sobered a little and stood up. Her cheeks were as red as Prompto's felt, but the blush suited her and brought out the green in her eyes. Prompto just looked like a beet crossed with a chocobo when he blushed.

"I wouldn't say that," she said. "I might be the one who ain't cut out fer it. Ain't many men in this world interested in comin' second to my work, and that's always gonna be the case."

For so many years, Prompto would have happily taken second place. He sort of got what that was like, to love something so much, it came before everything else. He thought about and obsessed over photography and chocobos more often than was necessary or healthy. Not to mention his devotion to Noctis. If Noctis had lived, Prompto doubted anyone or anything would come before his loyalty to his King. Not even photography or chocobos.

There were a lot of things Prompto Argentum would never be, but he was, and always would, be fiercly loyal to the things he loved. He suspected Cindy was no different, in her own way. Just that it was cars she loved instead of people.

"Paw-Paw's on this kick about me settlin' down and all," Cindy said. "Guess he's got it in his head you're the one he wants to see me with."

"Me? That's crazy!" Prompto said and faked a laugh. "He must be going a little senile."

It was one thing for Cid to give him a little push. Another to bring it up to her and name names. Prompto couldn't have been any more mortified by this entire situation, and he couldn't decide if he was relieved or heartbroken that Cindy didn't see it the way Cid did.

"No, he's just itchin' to see to it that I'm taken care of," she said. Her smile fell away completely. "He ain't got that much longer and he's worried there ain't gonna be nobody around to look after me once he's gone. You're just the unfortunate victim of his hair-brained scheme to find me a hubby before that time comes." She paused. "He likes you an awful lot."

"Ah," Prompto said, for lack of anything better to say. "I get it. That's... actually kind of sweet, you know? Looking out for you like that..."

Cindy's smile was sad. "I know he just wants what's best for me, but I'm awful sorry he put you in the middle of that."

Prompto decided not to mention he and Cid had their own conversation about this. It was already pretty obvious what was going on.

"It's cool," he said. "No worries. But, he does know you can take care of yourself, right? Pretty sure you're not the kind of girl who needs a man to look after you."

Cindy blinked at him and some unnameable emotion flickered in her eyes, like no one had ever acknowledged or validated her independence before.

"Well, maybe it's less about the lookin' after and more about not wantin' me to be alone," she said and pulled a face. "He mentioned grandkids too."

A bit of melancholy stole over him at the mention of kids. He pushed it back and offered a sympathetic smile.

"Maybe you should get him a dog."

Cindy laughed and patted his arm. Prompto tried not to melt down over being touched by the Goddess. His younger self would have fallen on the ground and flailed at such a blessing. His current self reacted with less obvious drama, but his brain short circuited for several seconds.

Damn it. He thought he was over this.

Clearly not.

"For what it's worth..." she said, "I s'pose if I had to settle down I could do a lot worse. You ain't never been nothin' but sweet, and you been a real good friend to me, and I 'preciate everything you've done over the years. Ain't many people I can say that about."

It wasn't the same as her returning his feelings, and he still had his reasons for not wanting or expecting her to, but it was a nice thing to hear. At least he knew for sure he was a little more to her than an eager puppy willing to fetch whatever stick she tossed to the horizon. She considered him a friend, and that was not at all a bad thing.

"Well, if you ever change your mind," he said, emboldened and only half teasing, "You know where to find me."

"You'll be the first to know," she said with a smile and a wink.


End file.
